Too Deep
by Sidney James TD Lemon 1900
Summary: The CIA needs House's help..But after prying into classified information, how will he react when he finds himself too deep in the world of spies and espionage? He and Wilson may get more than they bargained for on this one. Not a typical case story! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_**Too Deep.** __by thatonegirl005_

_Disclaimer: Don't own any of this. It all belongs to Fox. Hooray. _

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**_Chapter 1_**

It was the start of a new week at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Time for a new start, new beginnings, new sick people-…new…

…annoyances.

"Good morning, my little minions!" rang out a familiar voice from the doorway. The six 'minions' sighed as they watched their somewhat insane boss cane his way into the room. "And what evil shall we produce today?"

"Aren't we the good guys? Saving lives and all?" Cutthroat asked rather annoyingly.

"That's what _they _think." House replied, sitting himself on the corner of his desk and looked out over his employees. He knew that eventually, he'd have to cut this lot in half. But for now, he enjoyed having six of them around. The more doctors, the more ideas. The more ideas, the more he could bash on those ideas (brilliant or not), and satisfy his need to…bash on people. Even if he did miss his old team. Well…sort of missed them.

Morman in the back rolled his eyes and sighed. "Any new patients today, Dr. House?"

"Nope. But! I know you all just can't stand being bored. I suppose…I could concoct a list of things for you to do…or…"

"_Busy work_?" Cutthroat moaned. "Are you serious? We're _doctors._ We didn't spend 8 sleepless years in med-school just to do your busy work!"

"Well, I was going to let everyone do what they wanted, "House lied, "But if you want to do _real doctor stuff_, then go make yourself useful in the clinic. Here," he tossed his name tag at her harshly, "you can be me. And when you sign in, put _Greg, _not _Gregory. _Cuddy will notice my lack of laziness otherwise…"

"House!"

He winced ever so slightly. He knew that voice. "Talk of the she-devil!" he shouted, looking up to the back of the room. There, stood the Dean of Medicine herself. "Heeeere she comes to wreck the daaaay!" he sang out. "What can my minions and I-…just my minions, do for you, Cuddy?"

She glared at him. "_You,_" she said dangerously, "can get your ass up here. I called you down to my office over twenty minutes ago!"

Thirteen suppressed a small smile.

"I saw that," House grumbled as he passed by.

"You've got someone here to see you," Cuddy said quietly when he reached her.

"If it's an angry ex-patient, tell them I'm away on business. If it's my mom, tell her I'm…away on life or death business and won't be back for a month. If it's a hooker, send her to my office." He said, turning away.

"House," Cuddy warned as she grabbed his arm. He looked at her hand with minor surprise. He was always slightly caught off-guard whenever physical contact was made. Cuddy realized this and let go, but now she had his attention. "Out here," she looked to the doorway they were standing by.

House nodded and limped outside to come face-to-face with a man in a suit. "Doctor House?"

"No, that'd be the blonde down there," he pointed toward Cutthroat with his flaming cane. "Says so on her name tag."

The man sighed and whipped out a black ID badge. In big, blue, unmistakable letters read CIA.

"Ah."

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" the man asked stiffly.

Cuddy nodded. "My office."

House stuck his head back in the room, where everyone had been watching. "Speculate amongst yourselves!"

--- _In Cuddy's Office _---

"Look, Agent Jackson, whatever House did, he's very sorry and won't ever do it again." Cuddy said quickly as she closed the door behind her. "And you can be assured he'll be dealt with properly…" she added threateningly.

"Oh yeah. She'll give me a good spanking tonight." House quipped, plopping down on the couch on the side of her office.

"It's uh, nothing like that, Dr. Cuddy, "Agent Jackson said. "We are aware that Dr. House is the best in his department; diagnostics. So it's only natural that when we need the best, we get the best."

"Excuse me?"

"We'd like to borrow him for a while."

Cuddy crossed her arms suspiciously. "What for?"

"They wanna clone me, Cuddy. Imagine twenty more little Gregorys running around to save the day…"

Cuddy shuddered at the thought.

"Hardly," Jackson snorted. He had heard of House's personality and could see he held his smart-ass reputation up well. "We have an agent who's extremely ill. Our doctors have no idea what's wrong with him and we're deeply concerned. Your assistance is greatly needed."

"Why can't he come here?" Cuddy asked. "We have the best facilities and diagnostics department in the state. I'm sure we could work someth-…"

The man held up a hand. "I'm afraid we can't transfer him anywhere else. For one thing, we're not sure if he's stable enough to be transported. And second, the entire situation is highly classified. Even Dr. House will only receive limited information on this. We can't risk the patient to leave the premises."

"Is he an alien? Is that why?" House blurted out.

Jackson sighed. "No. That one is at Roswell."

Cuddy blinked. Surely he was just pulling House's crippled leg…

"Well-…" House started, but the agent didn't want to hear another snarky comment, so he cut him off.

"It's settled then. Your plane," he handed House a ticket. "leaves for Langley tomorrow morning."

"Woah," Cuddy demanded, "Can't we get some more on this? Who _is _the guy? Can we have his file?"

"No. Classified."

"I can't figure out what's wrong with him if I can't even see his file." House pointed out, getting to his feet.

"Like I said, you will be provided with limited information on the patient upon your arrival."

"I haven't even agreed to this yet."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "House…"

"Dr. Cuddy," Jackson said quietly, "could you excuse us for a moment?"

_Now he's done it…_Cuddy thought grimly. She glanced at House, then back to Agent Jackson. She nodded with defeat, and turned to leave, praying that House wouldn't screw things up. It was the government they were dealing with now, after all.

Jackson waited for the office door to click shut before smirking ever-so slightly. He paced over to Cuddy's desk and sat on the edge. Some how, thought House as he leaned over on his cane, the guy reminded him of Tritter. And he wasn't liking it.

"Dr. House," he started smoothly. "You could make this very easy for us, or very difficult. Either way, you will be helping up with this."

"So…is that supposed to be a threat?" House raised an eyebrow in slight amusement.

Jackson stared at him for a moment before walking over to House. He came face to face with him. "Yes."

House nodded, holding his ground. "It's not a very good one."

Jackson's left eye twitched. After another moment, he walked past House towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow then,"

---_Later that day _---

House zipped up his blue backpack and began his limpful journey to the elevator from his office, and soon after that, his motorcycle. On his way there, however, came a voice dripping with care and concern that House tended to avoid at times like these.

"The CIA???" Wilson hissed as he approached.

House caned faster. "Hold the elevator!" he cried out to the couple that had just entered. The two recognized House immediately and ignored him. Instead, one of them hit the button to close the door before House could get there. "Damn," he muttered.

"House," Wilson had appeared right next to him. "_The CIA?_" he repeated incredulously.

"Yes, Wilson. They want to talk to me about you. They want me to turn you in, actually. Sorry bud. Spy days are over." House snarked, pressing the Call Elevator button repeatedly.

"But really, what do they want?"

"They've got a case for me, Wilson. Nothing to wet your pants over."

"And they can't bring him here?"

"Apparently not. It's classified."

"Do you know why?"

House pressed the button again. "If I did, I'd have to shoot you."

"I see. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Are you leaving Foreman in charge?"

House sighed. "I don't really have a choice now, do I?" he paused as the elevator doors slid open. "Don't really have a choice over anything anymore…" he added quietly.

"What do you mean by that?" Wilson inquired.

House gripped his cane. "Nothing." He stepped into the lift. "Make sure Foreman doesn't turn the incoming ducklings against me while I'm gone. The last thing I need is a rebellion when I get back."

Wilson nodded with a small grin. "Yes, O evil emperor." he said sarcastically.

"Now _that's _more like it," House smirked as the doors closed.

TBC!

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_A/N: So I started writing this right after I saw the previews for tonights episode. I'm big into the spy stuff, so I thought I'd have some fun with it. I meant for get more, or even finish this over the weekend and have it all up before tonight, but then alot of crap came up and ate up all my time. That, and finals are approaching soon. Ick. So I know this isn't exactly going to go as the episode is (only 2 and a half more hours to go!) but this was just based off of the **idea **of it. I'm going to have some fun with it. And hopefully you'll have fun too! Comments, rejections, suggestions...anything rhyming with 'tions' (lol)...are welcomed! In fact, encouraged! Thanks! Enjoy._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry for the lack of update! I know, I said I'd post the next day, but a bit of a crisis popped up on me. Please forgive me. So I made this bit a little more exciting to make up for it. Enjoy! _

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**Chapter 2**

For the most part, it had been a quiet evening for Greg House. An ordinary evening of eating peanut butter out of the jar, watching late night television, and later drinking himself to sleep. Nice, routine, normal evening. Except for the persistent banging on his door at 3 in the morning, that is.

_Thump Thump Thump!_

Back in the bedroom, House groaned quietly.

_Thump…Thump…THUMP! _

He rolled over, tangling his sheets around his legs. After a moment, he blinked open his eyes and glanced at the clock, sighing at the hour. Going against his will, he crawled out of bed and half limped, half hopped out of his room, using the walls and furniture to help maneuver to the front door.

"_What_?" he snapped, swinging the door open. He had half expected it to be Wilson for some odd reason. Instead, two men in identical suits (but different ties, at least) were standing outside his apartment.

"Dr. House?" said the shorter of the two.

"Not until the sun rises." He retorted with a yawn.

"We're with the CIA."

"I figured."

"We need you to come with us right away. There's been…a situation."

"_Who_ decides to cause a situation at 3 in the morning?" House growled.

"Please, sir, you need to come with us." The man repeated.

House sighed, closing the door. "Gimme a minute,"

Moments later, the door flew open again, this time revealing a fully dressed House, flaming cane in one hand, Vicodin in the other.

"Right," said the man, watching House swallow the pills. He led House outside, where a small black car awaited. "We'll be taking you to a private jet. From there, you'll be flown directly to Langley." The man opened the back door of the car for House.

He hesitated before getting in. "What's so damn important that you have to come get me a mere…" he looked at his watch, "four hours before my original flight there?"

The taller suited man, who had done nothing but look intimidating the whole time, was the one to answer. "Dr. Curtis, whom we were also bringing in to assist us on this case, was found dead in his home about an hour ago." He paused, causing a rather undesired dramatic affect. "He was murdered."

"And you think _I'm _next."

"To be blunt, yes."

House's lips twitched slightly as he tried to think of a witty comment to add. However, a shot rang out from the street, shattering the car window. Tall-suit grabbed House by the collar and dragged him to the ground, while Short-suit whipped out his gun, looking around for where the shot fired from.

The sound of screeching tires sounded from down the street and it was coming right for them. Short-suit fired his gun at the car as Tall-suit and House clambered into their car, keeping their heads down. When Short saw that they were in, he ran around to the front of their car and jumped in the front seat.

"Get us out of here," Tall exclaimed.

"Wow, what an excellent idea!" House snarked with much sarcasm, trying to hide the fact that he was actually quite freaked out by this whole situation.

"Shut up." Short said, putting the car into gear and peeling out of the street.

"They're still following us." Tall noted, looking back at the white car following them.

"Persistent little buggers, huh?"

"Well, shoot out their tires."

"Already on it." Tall stuck his torso out the shattered window, aiming his gun at junky car that was pursuing them. House looked on anxiously out the back window as Tall fired his weapon at them. Shots were also returned back, taking the back window out.

"Shit!" House exclaimed, ducking his head.

Tall kept shooting, but their pursuers were swerving around too much for him to get a good shot.

"Hang on, I'll try loosing them!" Short shouted as he jerked on the steering wheel. They went veering off into on-coming traffic, dodging what few cars that were out at three in the morning. House found himself wishing that he had his motorcycle as the moment as they weaved through traffic, narrowly missing car after car. Behind, the white car had a harder time keeping up, since it seemed to be much older and the driver not so experienced. They turned sharply to the right, running a red light and just barely missing a large green mini-van. House could see an angry mother inside it, laying on the horn as they whizzed by.

However, as soon as they got onto the next street, the car came to a screeching halt, while the pursuers sped by, caught off guard. Short brusquely threw it in reverse and stepped on the gas.

"You nuts?!" House exclaimed, watching very keenly out the back window as they sped backwards into the intersection. The smell of burning rubber wafted into the car as they sped on.

Meanwhile, their pursuers had already pulled a U-turn and began to follow again, only this time they were lagging behind even more. Short didn't want to risk them catching up again, so he kept on going in reverse, still dodging traffic in the process. This street seemed to be a bit busier, making it more difficult to not hit anything, especially going backwards.

Tall looked out the front windshield, only to see a man from the white car hanging out the window with a gun. "Watch it!" he warned.

Short quickly looked, flinching as a bullet hit the windshield. Since it was bullet-proof, it didn't shatter, but left a bullet mark.

"Hope you guys got insurance on this thing…" House muttered. Tall leaned back out his window and returned a few shots to the white car. He grinned ever-so-slightly when he saw that he clipped the man in the passenger seat in the shoulder. He ducked back inside.

They were coming up on a round-about. "Oh you're not serious…" House gripped his cane anxiously as they turned onto the round-about with much speed, inertia throwing him into side of the car. They went around several times as their pursuers caught up to them. "I'm gonna puke back here!" House shouted, feeling himself get dizzy.

However, Short had this all planned out. After another moment, he slammed on the breaks and put the car back into forward drive, and immediately took off, now in the wrong direction of the round-about. He turned sharply back onto one of the roads filtering out from it, narrowly missing a red truck that was trying to turn onto the round-about. Their pursuers tried to follow, but only came crashing into the side of the red truck.

Then, all seemed calm in the dented and shattered black car.

Tall breathed out a sigh of relief. "Nice one,"

Short nodded, looking in the rear view mirror. "We need to get him to Langley. You guys alright back there?"

"Yeah," Tall looked at House. "You?"

House loosened his grip on his cane, noticing that his knuckles had gone white. "Peachy," he snapped, reaching into his pocket for his Vicodin. In truth, he was a bit rattled by this. Not the car chase itself…No, that had been rather thrilling.

It was the fact that someone wanted him dead this badly.


	3. Chapter 3

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_**Chapter 3**_

"You know, this place looks a lot cooler on _24_." House muttered, noting the dullness of the Central Intelligence Agency. He had expected a sophisticated world of high-tech computers, an almost futuristic design of rooms and furniture, and perhaps a man named Q in the background testing out exploding pens and invisible cars…

Instead, the place looked like an office building. A _boring_ office building. Even Princeton Plainsboro looked cooler than this…

"Life's full of disappointments," said a female voice from behind. House turned to see a young, dark doctor smiling at him. "Sorry to disappoint you."

House tilted his head in intrigue for the lady. "Don't be," he smiled slightly.

Short suit surppressed a smirk. "This is Dr. Samari Terzi; she's in charge of the case."

"And since you're not dead, I'm assuming you're Dr. House."

"You assume correctly. Now where's the patient?"

Terzi opened her mouth to respond, when suddenly song broke out from House's jacket pocket.

_What a maaan, what a maaan, what a maaan, what a mighty goooood maaa-aaan…_

She raised an amused eyebrow as House fumbled to dig it out.

Suit stepped forward. "Doctor, cell phones aren't permitted in headquarters…" But House ignored him.

"_What_?"

"Where are you?" asked a confused Wilson on the other end.

"We've already been over this, I'm on a little field trip today, remember?"

"Of course I remember. Don't you have flight to catch in order to get there? I'm at your apartment…"

House sighed. "Oh, right. You're there to pick me up, aren't you?"

"Yes…"

"Sorry. I got a better ride here." House grinned, reflecting on the excitement of it.

"What?"

Terzi cleared her throat. "Dr. House, we should get going…"

He held his hand over the mouthpiece. "Sorry. Mental patient. He's real clingy."

"House?" Wilson called out from the other end.

"Call me later, Jimmy."

"But…" However, House slapped the phone shut, leaving a dumbfounded James Wilson on the other end.

"Now," he started, "the patient. Dumb and Dumber here," he jerked a head to the two suits, "wouldn't give me a file or tell me anything about the guy while we were on the jet."

"Standard procedure, sorry." Terzi stated simply. She waved a hand to the two. "I've got it from here, thanks." The Tall suit gave House a nasty glare before leaving with Short. "This way, Dr. House."

House began to follow her down a hall, buzzing about with people. "Charming fellas, those two."

Terzi ignored him. "Whatever you need to know about John, and yes, that's a code name, just come to me and I'll provide you with what you need to know." She stated matter of factly.

"Well I need to know everything." House said tryingly. "So it'd be easier if you just gave me his whole file or something."

"Ah, nice try. Sorry, it's strictly classified."

"Right, it's important that you keep that sort of important stuff classified. Since I'm _really_an evil spy looking to bring this country down." House said dramatically. "One sick guy at a time. That's how we roll."

They had stopped outside of a door. Terzi gave House a half amused, half annoyed look before opening the door quietly. Beyond the squeaky door, House could hear the soft sounds of monitors hooked up to the dark haired man in the bed. The man, 'John' or whoever the hell he was, looked extremely awful. His entire form was alarmingly thin and his skin seemed to be peeling right off. His breathing was shallow and somewhat labored, House noticed. The beads of sweat that covered his forehead told him that he must have a fever as well._Interesting,_he thought as his mind kicked into gear.

"He used to weight 185 pounds. He was perfectly healthy five days ago." Terzi said quietly, not wanting to wake John. "We don't have any idea what's caused all of this."

"…Cool…" House mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Terzi flashed a glance at him.

"Nothing."

Dr. Terzi opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when John suddenly screamed out in pain. She yelled out into the hall for help before quickly rushing over to the bedside to see why he was in pain.

"What is it?"

He wretched around painfully, grabbing at his stomach. "My- aach! It's killing me!"

"Where?" Terzi shouted over him.

"_My_ guess would be in that abdominal area," House pointed out brightly, limping over to join them. "You know, where he's pointing frantically at?"

John nodded quickly, his lips pressed tightly together now trying to control his cries. Seconds later, several nurses rushed in to tend to him. A moment later, the pain seemed to dull slightly, since John began to relax, but was still in some pain.

House nodded, looking on with calculating eyes. "Very interesting," he said.

_---Meanwhile, at PPTH…---_

"Where's Dr. House?"

Foreman had just entered Diagnostics and set down his briefcase on the desk in the corner of the room. "Away on business, I think."

"You mean you don't know?" Kutner asked from the back of the group.

Foreman sighed, looking around at the six potential employees. "That's all Dr. Cuddy could tell me. But that doesn't really matter now." He paced over towards the white board. "What _does_matter, is our patient. 19 year old female. She was originally being brought to the hospital when she collapsed, but on her way here she had an absent seizure. Reasons are unknown. BP is also in the tank." He scribbled the symptoms on the board as he spoke. "Go," He stopped suddenly after he said that, realizing how much he sounded like House just there. The very thought made him cringe.

"Reaction to a medication?" Thirteen suggested.

Foreman nodded. "Check her file and ask her if she's on any new meds." Thirteen nodded and got up out of her seat. "Run a drug screen anyway, just in case though." Foreman added.

Cole stood up as well. "I'll go with you, I was thinking that too."

Foreman nodded as the two left. "Anything else?"

"Kind of a long shot, but there could possibly be a tumor in her head." Cutthroat said. "It could explain the seizure at least."

"Schedule her for an MRI."

And with that, Cutthroat briskly exited the room. There was a moments silence after that.

"So where do you _think_ he is?" Kutner asked.

Foreman sighed as he stuck the cap back onto the marker. "I don't think I really _want _to know."

---Back at Intelligence...---

"Soooo…" House drawled out, as he twirled his cane around in his hand. "What causes loss of weight, skin rashes, fever, and abdominal pain…" He was mostly talking to himself, envisioning a white board in his mind as he said the symptoms aloud. "Have you checked for poisons?"

Terzi took a seat at her desk. "Of course. We're in the process of running tox screens for heavy metal poisons and biological agents." She sighed as she glanced at some papers scattered around the desk. "We've gotten a few results back and so far they've been negative."

House stopped twirling his cane and limped over to a chair across from her. "What about allergic reaction to the food? I hear the Asians eat cat over there, maybe that didn't quite agree with little Johnny."

"I highly doubt food did this too him. We've had the local foods from where he was staying checked out and there's nothing that could have possibly done this too him." Terzi leaned forward on her desk and folded her hands.

"Alright then…" House tapped his cane on the floor as he thought. "Then he did this too himself."

Terzi scoffed. "What, he wants to kill himself? Unlikely…"

"He just drinks too much! It's pancreatitis. Explains the pain."

She continued. "…_Very_unlikely…He's not a drinker. And it doesn't explain any of his other symptoms."

"So what, you think someone invented a new customized poison just to kill this _one_agent? How special could he be? Like James Bond special?"

Terzi was beginning to get annoyed. "House, do you have any other ideas?"

He lowered his head in thought. He was still set on the idea for alcohol induced pancreatitis. "Did he happen to go breaking into any evil, secret lairs while he was away?"

Terzi cocked her head in confusion.

House sighed, realizing he'd have to talk in real proper English for this one. "Could he have been exposed to any chemicals from labs or anything? Anything out of the norm? Radioactive?"

As House spoke, she began to flip though papers on her desk. After a moment, she found one that caught her interest and read through it. "Actually…yeah." She looked up at House. "We'll start treating him for radiation sickness."

"Well what was it that he was exposed to?"

"Some experimental thing…classified. Part of his mission."

"Oh, well that's helpful."

She shoved all the papers into a black folder and stuck them in a drawer in her desk before standing. "Since its unidentified, I'm not sure how he'll react to the treatment, so we'll have to keep a close watch on him."

"Wait, so you're going to treat him for radiation poisoning…even though there's a chance it could go horribly wrong and kill the guy?" House asked, also standing and leaning over heavily on his cane.

Terzi paused. "Well, it's all we've got to go on right now."

House shrugged. "Cool."

She gestured for him to follow her as they exited her office. Before he left, however, House threw a quick glance at her desk. In particular, the drawer that held John's file.

John's_classified_file. In Dr. Terzi's _unlocked_drawer.

He grinned to himself, as he shut the door behind him, knowing he'd return soon.

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_A/N: I know, its sounding a bit like the episode, but I've got __**big**__ and __**unexpected**__ plans for the next chapter. Stay tuned! It shall be up soon! R&R thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! And I really appreciate you all taking time to read this. I'm so excited for this next chapter, so let me know what ya think! It is in the works! Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own House!  
_

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_**Chapter 4**_

"You know, House started, biting into a chip, "You are much better company than the coma guy." He was lying on the bed next to John eating a late night snack.

John looked at House with tired eyes. "Coma guy?" he asked in a barely audible voice.

"Yeah. He's who I normally eat with." House replied. "Especially when Cuddy's after me."

John attempted at a smirk. "You're life must be…" he drew in a wheezy breath, "…real exciting."

House ate another chip with a loud _crunch._"You could say that."

He was mostly in there to keep an eye on John's vitals. They hadn't been able to treat him for radiation sickness because they weren't entirely sure that he was suffering from that. When Dr. Terzi spoke to him earlier that day, she said that her superiors had said no to the treatment.

"_Not until we've found out with it is for sure, " she had told him with a sigh. "They don't want to risk hurting him even more-…"_

_House cut her off. "Treatment for radiation poisoning isn't going to hurt you!" he exclaimed. "They're _idiots_. Everyone knows that…"_

"_Well, they have reason to believe that it could harm him." _

"_Reason? Like what? You just said, we have no idea what it is! So how could they have reason? And who the hell are 'they' anyway? I thought you were in charge of this case." _

_Terzi nodded and rubbed her forehead with a sigh. "For the most part. Brian O'Connel, the Director, has taken a personal interest on this case. Apparently, it's important that John comes out of this. His mission is still incomplete-…"_

"_-And he's the only man in the world to finish the job, yadda yadda, I get it." House rolled his eyes. "But is O'Connel a doctor?"_

"_No, but…"_

"_Then who is he to be making calls with this man's life?" _

_Terzi continued, "_But,_he is fully aware of the whole situation and the risks." _

So now, House was sitting in the bed next to a dying patient, trying desperately to figure out this whole thing before his superiors let him die. House was a puzzle solver, but no one was giving him enough pieces to put everything together. It was extremely frustrating. He ate another chip.

"So John," he began, but stopped when he realized John had dozed off. He groaned as he rolled off the bed and limped to the door. Making sure that no one was coming, he shut it. _Time to interrogate the spy, _he thought to himself. He made his way back over to John's bedside. "Hey," he said, poking him. "Wake up."

"What…?" he moaned.

"Stay awake for me for a few, ok?" House said very loudly, causing John to flinch slightly. "What were you doing in Asia?"

John shook his head.

"John-…or whatever the hell your name is, I'm trying to help you, alright?" House said impatiently. He already despised talking with normal patients…now here he was, trying to pry information out of a CIA agent. Yeah, this would be loads of fun. "What were you doing in Asia?" he said with more force this time.

"Just…researching-…"

"Cut the crap, I know you weren't doing _that_. It had something to do with a chemical lab or something. You must have been exposed to something. Do you have any idea what it could have been?" House paused before he thought of something else. "Or was there anything…weird that you might have eaten? Something you could have touched?" he tapped his cane on the floor for an impatient second or two…waiting for some sort of reply.

John took a deep, wheezy breath. "If I was exposed to something…I wouldn't have any idea what it was," he said weakly as he closed his eyes. "I'm no biologist…so, I dunno what they were doing…"

House leaned his cane against the wall, then reached into his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. "Oh gee, that's helpful," House said, dry swallowing a pill. He prodded him again, causing John to open his eyes. "Not done yet-…"

John murmered something as he rolled his eyes.

House raised an eyebrow at the incoherent comment. "…what?"

A flash of annoyance crossed John's face. "What else do you want…" he coughed, "…to know?"

"Anything. You people are useless. I need something to work with here."

"Really, I'm not supposed to be talking about this stuff…" John took another deep breath, "I had to tail a guy…where I was at…and there was this forest or something in the mountains…he had a house there and I camped out there for a few nights…" he tried taking another deep breath, but ended up coughing it up instead. House sighed and gave him some water before he continued. "Thanks. So, I had to camp out there for a few nights-…"

"Did you eat anything out there?" House asked quickly.

"Besides the power bars I brought, I might have had some nuts…"

"Doctor House," a voice said from the doorway.

"Little busy here!" he said, not turning around. He didn't care if he was caught harassing a patient…he had to figure this out.

"I think you should leave our patient to rest."

House looked over his shoulder to see that it was Agent Jackson speaking to him. He loomed in the doorway, looking slightly disheveled. He loosened his tie as he slowly stepped into the room. House picked his cane up from its position against the wall and limped towards Jackson. "Funny, first you made a pathetic attempt to threaten me, to get here to save this guy…and now you're telling me to leave?"

"He needs to rest, Doctor." Jackson said coolly.

House knew he was right, but he wasn't going without a fight. He had to get to the bottom of this. "He _needs_ to get treatment for _something!_ You people drag me here to help and now you're not letting me do my job." His blue eyes flashed with annoyance.

Jackson said nothing for a moment. He simply rubbed his chin, where some blonde scruff was just starting to grow. "I suggest you tread carefully, House. This isn't your territory. You can't break rules and get away with it here."

"What, are you going to give me clinic duty too?" House snapped back with an attitude.

Jackson smirked, deciding to end the bicker. "Goodnight, Doctor."

House didn't look at him as he hobbled past towards the door. However, the fight wasn't over just yet, he decided.

-----

It was late. The halls of the CIA were mostly empty; say for a few nurses and personnel popping in and out of random rooms. Beyond the walls of Langley, a storm had blown in and the pounding rain could be heard from deep within the building.

There was a growl of thunder as Doctor House cautiously opened the door. The lights were out, and he assumed that no one was planning on returning for a while. Taking one last glance out into the hall, he stepped into Doctor Terzi's office.

He leaned his cane against the chair that he sat in earlier that day, and then hopped behind her desk, seating himself in her squeaky chair. His mind wandered back to the time he broke into a psychiatrist's office to read Stacy's file. Now, here he was, breaking into classified CIA records.

He grinned as he opened the drawer. Lo, behold, there was the tan folder, with big red letters stamped across the front that read 'CLASSIFIED'. He wiggled his fingers eagerly as he snatched it up and plopped it on the desk before him. _Now, to find out his actual name, _he thought.

Phillip Bridges. Age 36. Caucasian male…_Yeah, yeah, I know he's white. Where's the good stuff? _House flipped through a couple of pages until he found some mission reports. It seems that, Phillip had made his way round the world a good few times. He had been to Japan, France, Israel (twice), Iran, Africa…he had been a busy guy. Finally, House found the most recent report.

_Shanghai, China._ House raised an eyebrow. _Interesting. _Phillip had been undercover there for the past 11 months as a chemist. Apparently, the lab there is where many terrorist organizations get their supplies from. Not just weapons, but bio-warfare as well. Phillip's mission was to climb up the ranks and find out who was in charge of the whole project. Apparently, this evil mastermind was heading all sorts of bio-labs such as this one all over the world, supplying terrorists with whatever they needed.

In the meantime, while Phillip was there, he was able to give the CIA plenty of information on what exactly these labs produce and he had slowly been sabotaging some of their projects. Phillip had returned to America for a week, supposedly doing 'business' for the lab, but really was updating the CIA on his mission, when he fell ill.

House rubbed his forehead before continuing. There was a crack of thunder and he looked up in thought as he realized something.

"_I'm no biologist…so, I dunno what they were doing…"_

The file said that Phillip had been undercover as a chemist. And…surely, he thought, surely if he was stationed there undercover for 11 months, he had to have had _some _knowledge of a chemist/biologist/whatever. As he pondered what John/Phillip had said before, he also realized that there are no mountains or forests anywhere remotely near Shanghai. It was a city out by the _ocean_.

_Everybody lies. _Of course they do, but why would he lie about that? If it meant saving his life? _Patients are idiots, that's why, _House thought grimly.

As much has he hated the thought of it, House was rather confused. On any other case, this would be the point where he'd send someone out to go snoop around the patient's home. _Where's Foreman when you need him? _He thought gloomily. House flipped through the file some more and found a page listing all the details of Phillip's return to the CIA and found just what he needed. He put the file neatly back in the drawer as he found it. He quickly got up and snatched his cane as he left the office.

As House stepped out into the hall, he noticed that there wasn't anyone around. Pretty normal at…(he glanced at his watch)…three in the morning. He smirked. Funny, just 24 hours ago he was being awakened and dragged into this confusing case…

He caned his way through the quiet corridors of the CIA, looking for Storage Room 24B. Fortunately, it did not take long to find. Once again, he glanced down the hall, making sure that no one was coming, before he jiggled the door handle open and stepped inside. It was mostly a giant closet, with rows and rows of shelves filled with all sorts of random things. House smirked as he noticed the back corner filled with an assortment of weapons. But he focused on the task at hand. He slowly limped down to row 8, second shelf…-

"There you are…" House muttered, grabbing a large duffle bag from the shelf. It was Phillip's bag from his stay there. Well, one of many. He was there for 11 months. House figured he may not be able to break into his patients home to snoop around, so this was as good as it would get for the moment.

Clothes…clothes…pocket knife…gun…_shouldn't that be on the other shelf?_...shoes…more clothes…But House stopped at a wallet. He roughly opened it, revealing many fake IDs and some sort of currency. It took him a moment to realize that it was something other than yuan, the Chinese currency. He tossed it aside and picked up another item out of the bag.

A passport…and along with that, a plane ticket. However, House raised an eyebrow. It was a returning flight from South America. Brazil, to be exact.

It was somewhat puzzling, at first. There were many items in this bag that pointed to places other than Shanghai. Or the continent of Asia, for that matter. He stuffed the bag away and began for the door.

_Time for another chat with the patient. _

-----

"You've never went to Asia, did you?" House said loudly, walking through the door of Phillip's room and approached him. Outside, there was a flash of lightning, followed by a low grumble of thunder.

The man in the bed moaned. "_Was die Hölle?" _he mumbled, just barely loud enough for House to catch.

House leaned forward on his cane. "Was that German?" he inquired.

"Why…can't I just…rest…?"

House paused before he began, working out one last thought before starting. "Look, _Phillip_,"

The patient opened his eyes, slightly alarmed. "How'd you find that out?"

"I'm a naughty boy and break rules. Funny, we seem to have that in common, don't we?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Except…_you_are a spy for a Euro terrorist organization…or something. I'm guessing European, with the German and all. See, I only break into offices and read classified files." House paused and waited for some sort of reaction. Phillip's face hardened, but said nothing, so House continued. "I'm guessing you'll be in more trouble than me, though. Double agents aren't popular here, you see."

"You…" Phillip coughed, "You know…_nothing_!"

"Drop it, already." House snapped. "Right now, that doesn't matter. I know you weren't in China…you were in Brazil, right?"

"I was in Shanghai, China for the last 11 months." Phillip replied stiffly.

"Then what's this?" House held up the plane ticket from Brazil. Phillip's eye twitched as he saw it. "And surely," House started pulling out the wallet as well, "if you were in China for nearly a year, you'd have some Chinese money in here, right?" He pulled out the cash. "Wait…this doesn't look Chinese, does it?" he looked at it with a sense of sarcastic shock. "How bizarre!"

Phillip struggled into something resembling a position and looked House in the eye. "That proves nothing."

"Well, I think it'd be enough to start an investigation." House tossed the ticket and wallet on the bed beside Phillip and resumed his position leaning over his cane. "'Course you need to be alive for this investigation…and that's where I come in. Really, I don't give a damn what you do, I just need to figure out what's wrong with you…"

But House trailed off when he saw Phillip reach under his pillow and pulled out something he'd hope to never see pointing at him again.

A gun.

_Never visit patients again. _He told himself as he slowly stepped back. _I don't care what Wilson says… Never ever. _"One of the nurses drop that while giving you a sponge bath?" he quipped lightly, keeping his eyes on the gun pointed at him.

"I…" Phillip wheezed out a breath, "…don't think you are in any position to make jokes, Dr. House."

"Look, I-…" But House stopped suddenly when a sound other than thunder exploded through the room.

-----

_**TBC**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Right, so I meant to have this chapter up over the weekend…but I got distracted when my awesome brother bought Guitar Hero III for an early Christmas present. Surely, some of you can understand. That game is addictive. To put in House terms…its like Vicodin! Except fortunately it doesn't cause liver failure after extended use. Haha. Anyways! Apologies for the delay!

* * *

_

**Chapter 5**

Samaria Terzi dropped the chart she was holding s she stood in the doorway in shock. Her jaw dropped as she watched Dr. House crash to the floor after being shot by her patient. She started towards House, but stopped when Phillip cocked the gun again.

Terzi froze in her tracks and starred at him. His hand shook as he pointed the smoking weapon at her. "Phillip," she said in an unusually calm voice, one that did not match how she really felt at the moment. She raised her hands slowly. "Phillip, just…relax…ok?" she said, deciding it'd be better to use the man's real name, rather than his cover.

He shook his head, slow at first, then rapidly. "No…no…he…" he motioned to House, "he knew too much. Oh God…it's over…" he took several deep breaths. Terzi noticed the monitors next to him were beginning to go off. His heart rate and blood pressure had gone up significantly, but she couldn't be sure if it was a new symptom, or because he just shot a man. Though, her guess was more with the latter.

"Phillip, listen to me," she took a step towards him. "It's not over. Just put…put the gun down. We can help you. And let me assist Dr. Hous-…"

"Nien!" he shouted. "No…nien…" he began to ramble off in a language Terzi did not understand. She also heard House moan from beside her and she quickly stole a glance at him. He laid sprawled out on the cold floor, where a small pool of blood was already forming from his bleeding chest. When she looked back to Phillip, however, she gasped. He had turned to gun on himself, pointed at his head.

"Phillip- No!"

He gave her a fierce look and a small smirk curled on his lips. He took a rattling breath and uttered one last thing.

"Für die Gewerkschaft."

Terzi let out a small scream as the gun went off, and closed her eyes before she could see crimson spill onto the white sheets. She shuddered slightly, before slowly walking forward to press the Call Nurse button, then rushed to House's side.

"Doctor House?" she called to him as she quickly assessed his wound. He moaned again in reply. "Doctor House, can you hear me?"

"Good God, woman, don't shout…" he groaned.

A nurse stuck her head in the room and gasped at the now dead patient. "Never mind, him, we still need to worry about the living!" Terzi said sternly. "But we have a GSW here. Get a gurney and have the OR ready!"

The shocked nurse nodded frantically and ran out of the room. Terzi ran to one of the medicine cabinets on the side of the room and grabbed a handful of gauze pads, then dropped back to her knees at House's side and began to apply pressure to the bleeding wound. He had already lost quite a lot of blood.

House wearily opened his eyes a bit. "You know, I never figured this could happen to me again." He muttered quietly, then winced. "Ah…wanna ease up there?"

"Unless you want to bleed to death, then no." she replied, pressing down a bit harder, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. She figured that the bullet must have hit the Aoratic arch, a very vital vein in the upper chest area.

House let out a small gasp of pain as she applied more pressure. Down the hall, Terzi could hear the sounds of running feet and squeaky wheels rushing down the hall. "Hang on, they're almost here." She assured him. She watched as House's eyes fluttered shut, his head lolling to the side. "Stay with me…" said Terzi, but he was already unconscious. She looked up as two men with a gurney rushed into the room. "Here," she beckoned, causing them to tear their eyes from the dead man in the bed and to her and House on the floor.

Samaria stood back and watched as they carted House away on the gurney, leaving her to stand alone in the room. Behind her, Phillip's monitors were releasing the steady high pitched noises that signaled a flatline. She turned them off, trying not to look at his body. She had known him. They had been friends, even before he became ill. He had bought her coffee from time to time.

_What happened? _

She shook her head. That's what her superiors would want to know soon. She stepped outside the room, where the halls were beginning to fill with life again. Busy, chaotic, stressful, life.

-----

Lisa Cuddy had decided to come in early that morning. The stacks of unfinished paperwork that laid piled on the corner of her desk were nagging at her, so she figured it'd be better to come in and get them done early. The sun had barely just started to peek out from the horizon as she walked into her hospital. Her heels clicked noisily as she entered the Clinic, greeting the nurse at the nurse's station, then walked into her office.

Cuddy flicked a strand of dark hair out of her face as she sat behind her desk, dreading the enormous pile of paperwork that lay before her. _I swear, those papers reproduce overnight…_she sighed drearily. However, before she picked up the first paper, her phone rang.

"Princeton Plainsboro, this is Doctor Cuddy." She answered.

A moment of paused silence followed.

"_What_?"

-----

James Wilson really despised his phone sometimes. Especially when it was early in the morning and depriving him of his sleep. However, since having House as a friend, it was a fact that he has slowly become accustomed to…whether he liked it or not. He rolled over in his bed and fumbled for the phone on the nightstand.

"Nngh…Wilson," he answered groggily.

"Wilson, its Cuddy. Sorry to wake you." said the voice on the other end of the line.

He peered at the clock, which read 6:19am in bright red letters. "It's fine…" he lied, "Is everything ok?"

He heard her sigh through the phone. "No…it's House. He was shot while he was at the CIA last night."

Wilson sat up, fully awake now. "What!" he exclaimed.

"The director called me just now…he said he couldn't give me the full details of the situation. House is in surgery now, getting the bullet removed. He lost a lot of blood and is still critical at the moment, but that's all we know right now." He voice wavered ever so slightly as she spoke. She paused and Wilson assumed she was composing herself, before she spoke again. "Someone should be there with him…just incase anything…I mean..."

"Yeah, Cuddy, I'll go."

"I'd go with you, but I can't just leave here. And you're his friend."

"Yeah, it's fine," Wilson said, already out of his bed.

"I'll find someone to cover for you today."

"Alright, thanks, Cuddy."

"And Wilson…let me know if anything happens, ok?" she added nervously. The fact that she was nervous made Wilson nervous as well.

"Yeah, of course. He'll be alright, don't worry." He said soothingly, trying his best to be reassuring, even though he himself was worried out of his mind for his best friend. As he hung up the phone, he found himself wondering something through his concern.

_How did that idiot get himself into trouble this time?

* * *

_

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n:** _sorry for the lack of update! i've gotten a bit lazy over christmas break...but hey, it happens. don't worry though, chapter 7 will be up much much sooner! thanks for the patience, R&R, and Merry Christmas/Happy New Year!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Wilson leaned against the door frame, swishing the last bit of coffee around in the bottom of his cup. He'd been back and forth between the pathetic excuse of a coffee machine in the hall and House's bedside in the ICU all day. It had been a long day, leaving Wilson tired and frustrated. Here, his best friend had been shot at and yet no one had given him any details on how or why it had happened. He didn't even know _who_did it.

He thought about hunting down that woman he had spoken with earlier…Tazo, wasn't it? _No, wait, that's a tea. _Wilson pulled a crumpled post-it from his pocket. On it was a phone number and…_Terzi. That's it. _

"_Call me if you need anything," _she had said kindly, before rushing off earlier that day.

He was tempted, but shoved the paper back in his pocket. She'd only tell him what he heard earlier upon his arrival. Which was practically absolutely nothing.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck as he wearily abandoned his position at the door and entered the ICU, making his way back to his chair against the wall, closest to House's bed. There were two other beds in the room- a very small ICU. A very small hospital, actually. He was sort of surprised that the CIA had a private hospital within its walls.

Wilson looked at his watch and sighed at the late hour. He set the last bit of cold coffee aside and pulled out a book from a small bag that he had packed, settling in for a long night.

-----

It was the throbbing in his chest that brought House back to his senses. It wasn't excruciating, but enough to bother him, anyway. A small groan escaped House's lips as he opened his eyes. He blinked several times before taking in his surroundings. A small, dimly lit, unfamiliar hospital-like room. He looked to his right, where he saw the familiar form of Wilson slouched uncomfortably in a chair, softly snoring.

"_You_ look like hell," House said loudly, stating the obvious.

Wilson immediately jerked awake, nearly sliding out of his chair in the process. And it was true; Wilson did look terribly awful. House reckoned he had been sitting there all day…or days? He really had no idea how long he had been there. Thinking back to the last time he was shot, he gently brought a hand up to his chin, feeling his scruff. _Hasn't been more than a day probably, _he thought to himself. "Hey," Wilson said slowly, sitting himself back up in his chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, absolutely fantastic. You know me." House snarked back tiredly. Wilson grinned at the returned sarcasm. House shifted in the bed, trying to sit up, but slumped back down when his chest protested. He hissed, reached for his chest. "So what happened?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow and stood from his chair, confused and concerned. "I…was hoping _you_could tell me."

House looked away from Wilson's gaze for a moment. "Oh right, I was shot. Again. You know, I find it odd that my own patients keep weapons under their pillows."

"Your_patient_?" Wilson exclaimed. "How badly did you insult him?"

"Hey now," House said defensively. "I didn't do anything wrong." He put on a cheesy, sappy face. "I'm just another innocent victim."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "But really, why did he shoot you?"

House leaned his head back onto his pillow. "I found out…that he was a double agent."

Wilson's brown eyes grew wide for a moment. "Well…_you_ sure know how to keep busy. And pray-tell…how did you come by this?"

"I pulled his classified file and compared it to what he had told me…and it didn't add up."

"Of course…_everybody lies_…" sighed Wilson. "So what, you immediately jump to accusing him of being an evil spy from another country?"

"No, I did some other digging after that…" House said matter-of-factly. He tried to clear his throat when it started to go scratchy, so Wilson handed him a glass of water. "So how am I?" he asked after a sip.

"The bullet pierced your chest, just missed your heart, actually. It nicked a vein-…"

House made an impatient sound. "I mean, did I lose any organs or anything?"

"No, just a lot of blood. Besides that and stitches, you should be ok." Wilson explained. He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped at the sound of someone entering the ICU.

"Doctor Wil…oh," It was Terzi who had entered. "Doctor House, glad to have you back with us."

"Yes, glad to be able to grace you with my conscious presence. Miss me?"

"Hardly." She said with a smirk. "Well, now that you're awake, perhaps you can tell us what happened with you and John-…"

"Oh, drop the cover name crap. His name was Phillip Bridges and he was a double agent."

"We figured." She said quietly.

"You_knew_? And still let me go in there to get shot?"

"Well, we knew after last night-…"

"Well_anyone_ could have figured it out _after_last night." House sniped back.

"After he shot you, shouted a bit in German, and we found the plane tickets and wallet that you had taken in there, we pretty much put it all together."

"And_that's_ the CIA for ya…"

"House," Wilson warmed.

"Did you figure anything else?"

"Well with neither of you around to talk to us…it was fairly difficult."

"What do you mean neither of us? Just ask the little assassin in bed to tell ya what happened, unless he's not talking." House shrugged.

"He's not." Terzi said stiffly. "Phillip killed himself. Just after shooting you."

House avoided eye contact with both Terzi and Wilson.

"Wh…Why would he do that?" Wilson inquired, placing his hands on his sides.

"He knew he blew it just by shooting Doctor House."

"Got that right…" House growled.

"And he didn't want to risk telling us anything when we would interrogate him." Terzi added.

"Idiot."

"As for you, Doctor House," she said, looking down at him, "You broke into my office, read his _classified_ file, _and_broke into the storage room…that's off limits.."

"Oh, give me a break. The guy was the enemy, who _cares_ if I read his classified file? Made us all realize something that _you_never did before. You should be thanking me. And I'll also add, those rooms were _unlocked._" House pointed out, sitting up to disagree. "I'd hardly call that_breaking in…"_ he trailed off and grunted, giving up trying to sit up to argue with Terzi. Wilson stepped forward.

"Right, well, don't hurt yourself just trying to prove your point, House." He said, putting a hand on his shoulder and easing him back down. _And I have no doubt you'd rip those stitches right out if it meant getting your point across…_Wilson thought.

House glared.

Terzi picked up his chart from the end of the bed, then walked to his side, pulling out a key and unlocked the morphine box. "I'll up your morphine a bit…looks like you could use it."

House nodded with thanks, then stopped as a sudden thought struck him. "Have you been investigating this guy?"

"Who, Phillip?"

"No, the other Nazi who's been shooting up the place." House snarked.

"Yes, we've started one." She said shortly.

"Well you may have this covered, but here's a thought…" House started, looking up at Terzi. "How did Phillip, who hadn't left his bed in _days_, manage to get hold of a loaded gun?" He paused to let the thought sink in. Wilson ran a hand through his mess of hair. "Looks like your Nazi has an ally running 'round the place here. Who else would have given it to him?"

Terzi said nothing as she turned to leave the room, a new look of worry and stress now written on her young features.

-----

Cuddy let her pen clatter to her desk, then watched as if rolled off on to the floor. She let our a small sigh, looking at the very tiny, barely noticeable dent she had made in the stack of paperwork that day. She didn't get as much of it done as she was hoping when she came in early that morning. The clinic had been insanely busy since it was nearing the cold/flu season, and to make matters more hectic, the ER had been overflowing with dozens of victims from a massive car pile-up on the highway.

And yet, throughout all the sickness, bloody injuries, patients, and paperwork (or lack of…), Cuddy had one particular person on her mind. _House._

She looked at the clock on her computer, shocked that she was still alive at such a late hour. It was nearly 2:00 am. Not often did she sleep in her own office, but by the time she got home, she would have to wake up to be ready and back here in only three or four hours.

Still with much on her mind, Cuddy stood and shuffled around the office, closing the blinds and locking her door, then dragged her feet towards the couch in the corner of the room. Before she could plop down, though, the phone on her desk rang. Only one person had reason to call her at two in the morning, so she rushed to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Cuddy, its Wilson."

"How are things there?"

"Better," Wilson replied, "House is conscious and he's doing well. His blood pressure is still a little low, but he should be fine by morning."

Cuddy's shoulders relaxed some. "So what _happened_?"

Wilson cleared his throat and began to tell her of the situation. Everything including House's latest comment to Terzi.

"Go figure, he'd get himself into trouble like this." Cuddy sighed.

"I know, I feel like I'm in the middle of an episode of _Alias._" Wilson commented.

"How long are they going to keep him there?" asked Cuddy, "I'd rather House be here under our care. At least we don't have spies with guns for him to worry about here…"

"Yeah, I thought about that. His attending would like to keep him here until his BP is up and he's stable for a while, then they can transfer him there to Princeton for us."

"You'll stay with him?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Alright. Let me know as soon as they're ready to move him and we'll be ready." She paused. "How are you holding up there?"

On the other end, Wilson was slightly surprised she was asking about_him._"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Well, go get some rest. If House is fine, then don't stay up all night worrying, ok, Wilson?" Cuddy instructed quite firmly, as always. Looking out for her friends- her family.

"_You're_one to talk," Wilson scoffed. "You realize it's two in the morning and you're still in your office?"

_Touché,_she thought. "Thanks for the update. Goodnight, Wilson."

"'Night, Cuddy."

She gently hung up the receiver, then made her way to the couch, letting the exhaustion from the day wash over her.

-----

House's blood pressure was up at a normal 180/60 by noon the next day and Wilson was anxious to get House home to Princeton. He knew well that it probably wasn't the best idea to move a bullet wound patient right after being shot, but with the new threat that another double agent could be lurking around the halls, he wanted to get them out of there as soon as possible. The base had been put in to a lockdown so they could start tracking down the threat, but Terzi had pulled some strings so that House and Wilson could leave.

"The Director agreed to let you two be flown out of here. He feels that Doctor House could still be in danger." Terzi informed them.

"Yes…call if a 6th sense. I can spot a foreign spy from a mile away…" House said. He was fully sitting up now, the pain in his chest had dwindled down to just a throb now, but a bearable throb.

Wilson, who had been sitting in the corner, stood and held out his hand. "Thank you. You've been real helpful."

Terzi accepted the hand. "You're welcome. Anything we can do to help, Doctor Wil-…"

"Please," he said, looking her in the eyes, "Call me James."

House rolled his eyes. _Heeeeere we go._

Terzi smiled a little. "James," she repeated, hardly noticing that they were still shaking hands.

…Until House decided to clear his throat. "Yes, well, as charming as this scene is, I'd really like to get out of here eventually…"

Terzi and Wilson quickly released hands like nothing had happened. "We'll be able to fly you out in about a half an hour." She said looking back to House.

"Thanks."

She nodded and after double checking House's vitals, turned to leave. Wilson sat on the edge of his chair, bent forward putting his book back into his bag. House smirked at him. "You," he drawled, "have got the hots for her."

Wilson looked up, eyebrows raised. "No, I don't."

"Liar."

"I was just being professional…thanking her." He zipped the small bag closed. "Something _you_could never achieve."

"Oh_come_on. '_Call me James_' and the lingering hand contact…you want her."

"Well, she's an attractive woman-…" he stopped when House let out an annoyed sigh. "Ok yes, she's hot and I-…"

"And you wait until _right before we leave_ to say something." House scoffed lightly. "Pansy."

"This isn't high school, House. You don't just _woo_women within the first day of meeting them…"

"Works for me."

Wilson sighed. "Then again, you still are stuck in high school."

"College, actually. Nothing happened in high school." House corrected.

"Kay, well, this is stupid. I'm going to go get a coffee." Wilson said, turning for the exit, figuring it was pointless to argue with House over women.

House leaned his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of Wilson's footsteps drift down the hall. He let the past day run through his head…it had all happened so quickly. _Time flies when you're having fun, _House thought lamely to himself. He thought back to the patient and the case…it was a shame he had to go kill himself like that. The case was beginning to look promising. A sure puzzle, indeed. And that's what he always liked when it came to his work; the puzzle.

_Brrrriiiiiiiiing!_

House's eyes snapped opened in time to see the sprinkler system go off in the hall outside his room. Curious, he sat up to try and see what was going on as people ran by in a frantic. Moments later, however, he could see Wilson slowly making his way back to the room, sopping wet and dragging his feet along.

"What happened?" he asked.

Wilson ran a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah um…the coffee…" His voice trailed off as he avoided eye contact with House, who was smirking.

"You set a coffee machine on fire…" he chuckled, now shaking his head.

"It was old! Cheap and old. Terrible coffee anyway." Wilson said defensively.

But House ignored him and just laughed. "You idiot…"

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

After Wilson's pathetic mishap with the coffee machine (_"Piece of junk," he had added_), much of the CIA staff was eager to boot House and Wilson out and get the home. Terzi had informed them that their helicopter was prepped and ready to go.

"Oh, and you'll also have to sign some disclosure papers…" she added, handing the two each a clipboard. "National Security."

House squinted at what was in his hand. "You do realize that these letters are microscopic and damn near impossible to read, yes?"

Wilson nodded in agreement.

Terzi let out a small chuckle. "Yes. Basically it's just stating that by signing this, you won't talk about what's happened here."

"It takes six pages of microscopic font to say that?" Wilson asked, slightly flabbergasted.

"Just sign it." She smirked, handing them pens.

After signing to keep their mouths shut, Terzi collected the clipboards and left briefly to go fetch a wheelchair for House. Wilson watched as House slowly sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. "How's the leg?" he asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

"Sore, gimpy. Same as usual." House replied stiffly. He grabbed onto the IV stand and used it for support as he stood. A moment later, Terzi returned with a wheelchair.

"Ready?" she asked.

House eyed the wheel chair with the look that a five year old would give to a plate of spinach. "I'll walk. I'm fine." He grumbled stubbornly.

Wilson scoffed. "Right. You're not fooling anyone. You can barely stand." He pointed out, taking notice to House's wobbily legs. "Are you sure you're leg is alright?"

House hastily stepped forward to the wheelchair. "Fine." He lied curtly, settling into the chair. In truth, his crippled leg was killin' him. He figured, however, that just may have just landed on it weird when he fell from getting shot.

Terzi said nothing as she wheeled House out of the ICU. Wilson sighed, knowing his friend was lying, but tried to ignore it. A nurse had came in before to drop off House's personal items, so Wilson stuffed the clothes into his bag, grabbed the cane, and followed Terzi and House out.

They were accompanied by two men in suits and two helicopter pilots to the roof where the copter waited. Wilson watched as the two suited men assisted House in as Terzi stopped up beside him. He thought about saying something to her, but stopped when one of the suits waved for him to come on board as well.

"It was nice meeting you, James." She said with a small smile. Wilson was glad she used his first name.

"Let me know next time you're undercover in Princeton." He replied, before turning to climb into the helicopter. One of the suits hopped out, but one stayed on board as an escort. Wilson settled down in a seat across from House and found his friend smirking at him. "What?"

"No kiss goodbye?"

Wilson groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up."

House did, but kept the smirk on his face, know that alone would annoy his friend.

-----

House had briefly dozed off on the flight home, which was a slightly amazing feat considering the helicopter was incredibly loud. Wilson nudged him. "Hey, we're about there."

House groggily sat up from his slouched position and looked out the window, watching Princeton Plainsboro glide into view.

"You doing ok?"

"Would you stop asking me that?" House snapped. "You're like my mother, for crying out loud. Worse than my mother, actually." He paused. "And uglier too."

Wilson shook his head. "Sorry," he said smartly, "I forget- you hate the thought of someone actually caring. I mean, you only got_shot…again_. But, what the hell- you don't need anyone."

"Easy there, Dr. Phil." House said with mock hurt.

The helicopter began its decent onto the roof of the hospital. As they did, Wilson took out his phone and paged Cuddy, notifying her of their arrival. After landing, the suit took the wheelchair out and Wilson helped House off and back into the wheelchair.

"Crap…forgot my cane…" House mumbled.

Wilson nodded and turned back to the helicopter to retrieve the cane. He spotted it behind his bag and grabbed the two. He turned again to get off, but stopped when he saw something out of the ordinary.

Like the pilot pulling a large, silenced gun on his co-pilot.

Wilson barely could hear the shot over the sound of the engines, but watched in horror as it happened. He turned to his left, where the suit had been settling back into his seat. He stood quickly to go investigate, but then fell backwards at an awkward angle as two bullets ripped through his chest. Without another thought, Wilson dove out of the helicopter before he could become the next victim.

From the outside, House watched his friend literally dove and toppled out of the copter. He rolled on the ground, then managed to scramble onto his feet and rushed to House.

"The hell's wrong with you?" House exclaimed as Wilson began to wheel House away.

"House, its-…"

"I'd stop if I were you, Doctor Wilson." Said a cold voice from behind, followed by an equally cold, metallic sound. The metallic sound that no one ever wants to hear. Ever. The sound of a cocking gun.

Wilson did so. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, leaving House stuck facing the opposite way in the wheelchair.

"What, what is it?" he demanded, rather annoyed. He struggled to turned the chair around to see. "Oh…" he muttered, finding a frozen Wilson, hands in the air, starring at the pilot in the helicopter door pointing a gun at them. He was getting really tired of that...

The pilot had removed his helmet and House recognized the man as Agent Jackson.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise…" House said quietly.

"I ought to shoot you right now!" Jackson exclaimed angrily, his hand wavering slightly.

"And why is that, exactly?" House asked very simply.

"You killed Alrich!" he shouted. House figured that was John/Phillip's real name. His German name.

"Oh come off it. He killed _himself!_" House shot back, struggling to get to his feet. He felt better about himself arguing with someone when he could at least stand.

"House," Wilson warmed. "Don't argue with the man with a gun.." But House didn't listen as he swiped his cane from Wilson's grip and leaned on it heavily. Wilson shook his head, keeping a close eye on House. For one, he was about to get into an argument with an armed spy, and second, he wasn't really supposed to be up and standing after just being shot.

"Because of you, then!" Jackson shouted, letting his German accent slip through. "Because of _you,_he's dead! Our mission was a failure…you've exposed us…you have ruined it all!"

"Hey, you threatened me to come and help make him better. It's _you_who dragged me into all this."

"House!" Wilson hissed.

Jackson's hand shook more as he debated over what to do. "Alrich…he…he was my brother!" he said bitterly.

"And you think killing me will make it all better? Yeah, you're a genius…" House snarked, taking a step forward. He stopped very suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in his chest from the bullet wound.

_Is he out of his mind? _Wilson thought with a flinch. "Do you have a death wish or something?" he hissed from the corner of his mouth.

Jackson thought for a moment, then lowered his gun slightly. Not much, just slightly. "You're right," he paused with a sinister chuckle. "Not only are you responsible for my brother's death, you've ruined an entire operation. You don't deserve the quick and easy way out." He gestured with his gun.

House and Wilson exchanged uneasy glances.

"You will suffer, Doctor House." Jackson, or whatever his real German name was, smirked and backed into the helicopter, back into the pilots seat.

Half a second later, the rooftop doors slammed opened revealing Cuddy and a nurse, totally unaware of what had just happened. They watched as the helicopter took off.

House turned slowly to face everyone. He shook his head at Wilson. "Put your hands down, you idiot."

Cuddy looked confused. "Did…I just miss something?"

"Yes, you have impeccable timing, Cuddy." House exclaimed, leaning more heavily on his cane.

Wilson let out a long, slow breath as he rubbed his left arm. He had landed on it funny when he dove out of the helicopter. He then shrugged to Cuddy. "Let's just say, we're in a deeper hole than we thought here."

"Care to explain?" she sad with her administrative authority, placing a hand on her hip.

"Maybe when we're inside," House said, somewhat breathlessly. "I'm kind of tired."

Cuddy took a sharp breath in, stepping forward to him. "House, you're bleeding."

House wearily looked down at his chest, seeing a small blob of red steadily growing into a _large_ blob of red. "Damn," he breathed, feeling the strength quickly drain out of him. He thought he had felt a twinge there a moment ago. He quickly tried to take another step, this time towards the wheelchair, but soon stumbled over. Wilson had seen it coming, however, and stepped forward to catch House by his arms.

"Idiot…ripped you're stitches. _Again._" He grumbled, trying to keep both him and House on their feet.

"Trust me, this is getting old for me, too." House snarked back quietly as Cuddy ran to the wheelchair and started to bring it to them. The nurse who had been with Cuddy had ran back inside to call for assistance. Wilson's legs nearly buckled with House's full dead-weight fell into him as House fell unconscious.

Cuddy pushed the wheelchair up next to them and helped Wilson lower House into the chair. "You'd think he'd learn the first time…stitches tear easily." She sighed.

"Yeah, well, it's House." Wilson shrugged, now wheeling him quickly inside. "I'll get him to an OR to get him sewn back up…then I'll fill you in on what just happened, ok?"

Cuddy nodded, watching him go on. She let out a small sigh and rubbed her forehead. The madness just never seemed to stop around Princeton Plainsboro.

* * *

_a/n: sorry for the shortness. More to come soon. Reviews greatly appreciated...good or bad! I just need to know how this is going so far...so yeah. Thanks! _


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